


Fugue/Coda

by Bead



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-06
Updated: 2013-08-06
Packaged: 2017-12-22 14:20:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/914217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bead/pseuds/Bead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for one of sheafrotherdon's kissing festivals on LJ</p><p>First published in July 2007</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fugue

It’s a perfectly lovely day on a perfectly – choosing his words carefully John decides on "perfectly unmentionable" - mission on a sunny, temperate, uninhabited planet. 

Nobody (so far) to shoot at, nothing (so far) to run from and the sun is glinting off of Rodney’s hair and the three-quarters of a smile that he’s trying to squash. The siren song of an energy signature on his scanner is making him hum happily to himself, a jaunty classical tune that makes John think dimly of public television, church and lying with his head on his mom’s lap. 

He can’t quite place it, and he knows that if he tries to chase it down it’ll just distract him further. A half a klick on, the tune is clear enough to him that when Rodney isn’t humming, John hears the melody in his head as organ music. He thinks it might be a fugue. 

Later, John harasses a large shrub for lack of nothing better to do, while Rodney re-examines his readout. He looks up to find Rodney staring directly at him for the first time in twenty minutes, curious and slightly wary.

“He started it,” John points at the innocent bush.

Rodney blushes and waves a hand at him, turning back to his scanner. He re-orients himself to the signal they are following and starts humming again. 

John sticks his tongue out at the shrub and trots after him, wondering about the blush. 

They wind up tromping through a dense, cool forest thick with vines. John wistfully wishes for a machete even though he’s perfectly fine calculating their trajectory based on the directions Rodney is giving him at his six. 

“Five degrees to your right, and straight on ‘til morning, Colonel,” Rodney says briskly. Seconds later he’s humming again. John grins to himself. 

Weaving through the vines, John doesn’t register that now, he’s humming, too, supplying the answering phrases to Rodney’s melody. He doesn’t realize it until they’re out of the woods and standing at the edge of a waving sea of grass. He’s hummed his part twice, the second time loudly and impatiently, and turns to glare at Rodney. 

Rodney flashes him one of his rare, sweet smiles. John takes a couple of deep breaths because it feels like his chest is about to burst from this day and that smile and he just can’t remember the last time he felt so….

“You were uh, humming,” Rodney says shyly and kind of gruff, his cheeks pink. “With me.” 

John quirks his lips and shrugs casually, but he can’t hold it and grins at Rodney like a crazy person. “Guess so.” 

Rodney nods a few times, aiming for serious, and clears his throat sternly, trying to push away from the moment that he seems to have decided should turn awkward right _now._

Impulsively, John leans forward and kisses him – slow and soft and full – right on the corner of his mouth. 

John allows himself one heartbeat to look into Rodney’s flushed and flustered face before he strides away, that tiny gasp Rodney made ringing in ears. He hums in is head, waiting for a reply and doesn’t even make it through the first phrase before Rodney is crashing through the grass behind him. 

He’s almost halfway across the field before Rodney’s hand closes over his shoulder and spins him around. 

_“You,”_ he says, breathing ragged, gesturing wildly, a question and a statement all at once. 

“Me.” John replies as seriously as he can, because this day, and Rodney, and the sun, and the humming and the wind through the grass right now and the way Rodney’s skin smelled, warm and spicy and so familiar. He could have just this and be happy. 

But Rodney’s hands are on him again, pulling him in this time, and his lips are soft and sure. He makes a little happy sound against John’s mouth, and John just melts against him in answer, swaying as he wraps his arms around him and kisses back, there in the tall grass.


	2. Coda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Parenthetical paragraphs in italics are Rodney's memories.

Rodney stood in front of Sheppard’s - _John’s_ door - wiping his suddenly sweaty palms on his pants. He had no real _reason_ to be nervous. They’d just spent the afternoon making out in the middle of a field and Sheppard had invited him over; they were _past_ the first kiss part. 

_(Sheppard taking a half-step forward and placing a soft, lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth, then jauntily walking away. John swaying into his arms, lips opening eagerly, breathy moan bursting against Rodney’s tongue.)_

_Way_ past the first kiss, but he was still nervous. _That_ , had been planet side, and could be waved away as impulse, summer madness, aberration, or god forbid, sex pollen. They’d both wanted _that._

_This?_ This was intent. He wrung his hands. 

_(John’s mouth, smiling and whispering impossible things into his collarbone, sliding long and slow down his arm, biting at the tricep and soothing the sting away. Mouthing over his hip bone, demanding and begging all at once, shaping Rodney’s name in a completely new way.)_

“You gonna come in?” 

Rodney deflated. “How long have you been standing there?” 

“The question is, how long have _you_ been standing there?” 

“Not long?” Rodney lied, his voice rising an octave.

John stepped back silently, letting Rodney make the journey over the threshold. The door swooshed closed (with finality) behind him. 

“Hey,” John said, standing _way_ too close. 

“Hi?” His voice was stuck in the upper registers. 

“You doing okay there?” John’s hand was warm and solid on his shoulder (when had that happened?) and his thumb stroked the tendon of his neck. 

Rodney shook his head. (No no no no no no. ) “Terrified.” 

“Why?” he replied, eyes crinkling in a reassuring smile. 

John’s hand softly petted the hair on the back of his neck, and when Rodney opened his eyes, they were standing chest to chest. John looked a little hurt. Rodney felt bad about that.

“I was dreaming? Sex pollen? Madness?” 

“Do you feel crazy?” 

“ _Yes_.” The really unfair thing John was doing with his hand on Rodney’s neck was making him feel really relaxed and dreamy again. He steadied himself by hanging on to Sheppard’s waist. With both hands. Under his shirt. 

John kissed him again on that spot at the corner of his mouth that started the whole madness, his lips impossibly full and gentle. He lingered there, and rubbed the tip of his nose against Rodney’s cheek, distracting him by making his whole body fizz and tingle from the contact (like he hadn’t just rutted shamelessly in a field all afternoon). 

He moved over Rodney’s mouth with equal deliberation, gently nuzzling and nibbling at his lips until Rodney gasped against that soft mouth and let him in. 

And John had him, both hands cradling his face and just sort of drinking him in, driving him insane with nips to his upper then his lower lip, over and over, his tongue swirling and teasing and just not enough, until Rodney held on tight and _asked_ dammit, and John’s mouth opened for him, here, come in, come in. John wrapped his arms around him and offered _everything_ and Rodney had to pull away far too soon, breathless and shaky and full of wonder. 

John’s smile was open and happy and blinding. “Me, too.” 

“Oh,” Rodney said. _”Oh.”_ And fell for the second time that day.


End file.
